


Bumps in the Night

by Sincerely_Sierra



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: 2-sentence horror stories, Anthology Series, F/F, Ghosts, Mental Illness, Short Horror, depictions of violence, horror ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: Can you be frightened by just two sentences? What if I turn them into something more? Why don’t you stay for a night, and I’ll give you a fright.An anthology series where I take 2-sentence horror stories found on the internet or created by myself, and put a Zoe/Madison twist on it.
Relationships: Zoe Benson/Madison Montgomery
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I love short horror, particularly two sentences. In this series, I take two sentences and write a ficlet, using Zoe and Madison as the protagonists (or antagonists, if you will). I will give full credit to the original author of the two-sentence horror story, if I know who it is. Some of these are from Reddit, some are found posted anonymously, some are my own. There may be triggers in each chapter, some of which include death, mental illness, moral corruption, suicide, and other dark themes. Enjoy.
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

**“I can’t sleep” she whispered, crawling into bed with me. I woke up cold, clutching the dress she was buried in.** — VaultKid321

-

The night was stagnant like the glass of flat water left at Madison Montgomery’s bedside. There had been a massive Louisiana heatwave for a week, and Madison, living on the third floor of her apartment building, took advantage by leaving the window open, using the insect screen as her only protection. 

She was not hot as she slept, but she was somehow so sweaty and wet. Her body twisted and writhed against the cotton sheets, legs kicking out and fingers clawing at her face. When her eyes shot open, she rolled over and clutched her body pillow, throwing one leg around it, wishing it were the soft, unadulterated flesh of her beloved wife. 

Madison’s throat was scratchy and parched; she was always dehydrated and thirsty, and not a full of gallon of water chugged in one sitting could quench it. Despite the bothersome urge to drink, Madison remained in bed, and she vowed to stay there until the sun rose. She was safest when the sun was peaking; the unfamiliarity of the dark night was not her friend, and it hadn’t been since Zoe’s gruesome death three months ago.

Her eyes became heavy again as she thought of Zoe. The last time she’d seen her, Zoe was laying unconscious in a hospital bed, her beautiful face beaten into something horrifying. She had been lucky the beating hadn’t killed her in the middle of street on that cool spring night, but she hadn’t been so lucky when she flatlined in a hospital just twelve hours later. Nobody could bring her back that time. She had been so far gone that her life force was lost on Mallory’s fingertips when her heart was still beating. 

Madison sighed against the pillow and clenched her eyes shut as tears freely escaped. Calling upon the sandman to take her away, she swallowed and sniffled. 

As she dozed again, she felt a familiar weight press into the mattress. Without peeling back her swollen eyelids, Madison nestled into the weight, and a gentle hand caressed her back. It was almost cold in comparison to the heat coming through the window. 

“I can’t sleep,” a voice whispered. Her Zoe. 

Madison contently melted at first, like an ice cream cone over a child’s hands in the burning sunlight of July, but she felt herself jerk with horror. Her eyes opened, and she was face to face with her dead wife staring at her with unblemished eyes—not blackened from a hard punch—and a perfect smile that met the tips of her cheeks. 

“Zoe,” Madison choked. “No. No, I’m going insane. You’re dead. You’re not here. This isn’t real. I swore I was doing better. I’ve been going to all my appointments and taking my medication and—“

Zoe’s hand came up to stroke Madison’s damp hair. Madison remained frozen, grasping her pillow for dear life, as Zoe shushed her back into a daze. The last thing Madison felt before she jolted upright drenched in cold sweat was the soft sleeve of Zoe’s black dress.

“Zoe?” Madison sobbed, looking around the room with her entire body propped up on her elbows. “Zoe?” 

The room was empty. Emptier than Madison had been feeling for three months. Her heart was hammering and thudding, and her throat, suffocated by a dead scream, hurt. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and sighed, reaching over to grab the stale water. 

It was at that moment, she felt the ghostly material of a piece of clothing not her own. She remembered the sensation; the last time she had felt anything that soft was when she handed the mortician the pretty black dress Zoe would be buried in on a rainy afternoon.

Looking down at her lap, Madison saw it. It was black and covered in dirt and various graveyard crap that Madison did not want to consider. Her belly twisted, vomit rising into her throat. 

Madison closed her eyes, counted to ten, as her therapist had taught her, and hoped to wake up for a third time. But when her eyelids opened again, she found herself in the same position, cradling the dress as if Zoe’s body were laying in her arms as she’d done when she was scared in the middle of the night, and she let out a shaky breath. 

“No,” Madison whispered. “She’s gone. Zoe is gone. This isn’t real.”

Madison pushed the dress away and pulled the covers over her head. A heavy minute ticked by before she felt the comforter dip. 

“I can’t sleep,” said Zoe. 

With trembling hands and her eyes screwed shut, Madison lifted the comforter and allowed Zoe in. She did not wake up this time.


	2. Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I awoke to the sound of the baby monitor crackling with a voice comforting my firstborn child. As I adjusted to a new position, my arm brushed against my wife, sleeping next to me.”  
> —unknown

Zoe tossed and turned in bed, half awake for the third time that night. Since Stella had begun sleeping through the night a few weeks prior, Zoe was finding it difficult to settle down at the time she would usually be awake feeding or changing the baby. She and Madison had gone from waking every other hour with a fussy newborn, to waking only once or twice a night to dream feed and stealthily change a wet diaper.

The mother’s eyes were heavy, and she was on the brink of slumber again. She knew Stella wouldn’t wake for at least another few hours, or maybe even until sunrise, if their five-month-old child decided to bless her mothers with a full night to themselves. 

Their home was insanely quiet for having a new baby in the house—and a rambunctious feline that sometimes broke things in the middle of the night. Twix, their brown tabby cat, was not allowed in Stella’s room for the mere reason that he was so fat that he could accidentally suffocate the baby by sitting on her belly. He preferred laying at Zoe and Madison’s feet, which he was doing that night. 

Zoe toed at the fluffy ball of dander with her socked foot. He poked his head up and tilted it, as if to ask her what she was doing interrupting his peaceful cat nap in the middle of the night. He had been laying on her ankle, and it was now numb. Zoe groaned and turned over again. 

In her half-asleep haze, Zoe heard the baby monitor sat atop her nightstand begin to crackle. The noise indicator lights began to move, signaling Stella was awake, or someone was in her nursery. Zoe sighed in relief, silently thanking her wonderful wife for taking care of Stella and allowing her to stay in bed with the fat cat of theirs. 

One of her favorite things to do as of late was listening to the sound of Madison comforting Stella. Zoe closed her eyes and relaxed into the sheets, knowing her baby girl was safe with her mama, and she would be fed and changed and placed back into her crib to sleep until morning. 

“Shh,” came the voice from the monitor, though it was distorted and crackly like a bag of Pop Rocks poured in your mouth. “You’re alright, little one.”

Twix raised his head again and let out a large, menacing hiss. He seemed to have been directing his malice and contempt towards Zoe, but when the voice came through again, Twix’s fur stood on end and his tail became puffy like Zoe’s hair in a humid climate. 

“Go to sleep, Twix,” Zoe snapped in her quietest tone to avoid disturbing her wife and child. “It’s just Madison.” 

The chubby cat hissed again, but this time, he jumped off the bed and crawled beneath it, the bells on his collar tinkling with anxiety. Assuming he was only being his pompous self, Zoe ignored Twix and tried her hardest to fall asleep again. Morning would come faster than she could imagine, and she would soon have to be awake and running on one cup of coffee and a vitamin C supplement before getting back to the academy to teach. 

“You have such pretty eyes,” the voice cooed lowly. “I wish you could be this little forever. I wish I could make that come true.”

Madison was certainly softer around Stella. She had fallen madly in love with the baby the moment she held her for the first time. Zoe was almost jealous of the attention Madison poured over their daughter. Poor Twix had been nearly neglected, too, in the first few months of Stella’s life. 

Listening to Madison tell Stella how she “could just eat her up, toes and all”, Zoe adjusted her position so she was now facing Madison’s side. Her arm brushed up against warm, soft flesh, and her eyes shot open in the darkness of the bedroom. Her heart thudded as she bolted upright, panting.

Had she been dreaming? No. The monitor was clearly lighting up. And her wife was sleeping soundly beside her. 

“Madison?” Zoe squeaked. “Madison, get up.”

The blonde witch yawned and propped herself up on one elbow, a single eye barely cracked open enough to see her wife shrouded in the murky shadow of night. 

“Baby up? I’ll get her,” Madison insisted, beginning to get of bed, before Zoe grabbed her hand.

“I’m coming with you. There’s someone in there,” Zoe whimpered as she held the baby monitor up for Madison to see the lights and hear the crackling and static noise. “Someone has Stella.” 

Madison was decently dangerous on her own, with her powers and all, but she grabbed her hidden baseball bat as she and Zoe made their way down the hall to the nursery. The door was still closed, a sure sign that it was very likely no one had broken in through the front door. 

Zoe couldn’t help the tears of fright that rolled down her cheeks as Madison pushed the door open and angled the bat over her shoulder. She was still clutching the monitor in her sweaty hand, now hearing the sound of them entering the room. 

The gray and white nursery was stiller than water and darker than night. Nothing seemed out of place. The windows were tightly locked and there was no sign of forced entry, but the crib where Stella would safely lay every night, was empty, leaving nothing but a pacifier and her security toy behind. 

Zoe and Madison began to sob. The baby monitor crackled to life again, but they didn’t hear themselves crying in horror. Instead, the only ghostly words that left the speaker were, “ _I’m just going to eat her up_.”


End file.
